The Memories that Make Us
by Jade TeaLeaf
Summary: Not every chapter of our lives get to be part of some grand story. Some things play too small a part and others are excerpts we'd rather not be repeated. Either way, these happenings find themselves here in this "wastebin" of story compilations from multiple accounts and angles. A drabble companion to The Blood Between Us.
1. Asch - Palindrome - TBBU Ch 3

**So I decided to follow Saraa Luna's advice and make a collection of shorts that feature the going-ons of my other story "The Blood Between Us." If you haven't read it yet, I suggest that you do that (and review while you're at it!). :)**

**Anyways, these are just drabbles to get my creative juices flowing. The quality of the writing isn't up to snuff compared to TBBU (or even Chains) but I decided that if I've already written them then I might as well publish them.**

**NOTE: Because some drabbles contain spoilers, I will put a Chapter number on the side of each title. If you've read up to that part, it would be spoiler-free for you. So, don't read this unless you've already exposed yourself to Chapter 3 of TBBU. Anyways, enjoy! :)**

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**Palindrome**  
Asch Waycaster

In which Asch gets his first lesson of defense.

_Read after Chapter 3 (The Stolen Warrior)_

* * *

"Vermin nimrev! Vermin nimrev!" taunted the chorus of children.

The oldest mouse in the gang raised an arm while I curled into myself and anticipated the blow. I yelped as a dirt clod shattered against my arm, the first fire before a volley of dirt pelted down against me. I wanted to run or do something but I was so little and most of 'em were more'n three seasons older'n me. Sounds like nothin,' but to a child that's ages old! A beast could merge from child to adult in just a season. For some beasts, that's really all it takes.

Believe me. I'd know.

"Vermin nimrev!" they shouted again. They said it as if it was a curse. In many ways, it was. Vermin nimrev... It's one of those things where you can say the same thing frontwards and backwards and it'll still be the same thing. Sorta like that Urgan Nagru fox and his pick o' names. What is it now...? A pali... Palindrome.

They call it a palindrome.

Well, after all the chaos that the fox-wolf caused way back when, I guess they would treat any vermin in the same way. And if being a ferret was bad enough, I was a red one. I was a freak that couldn't hide in any crowd.

"'ey! HEY!" Ma's voice screeched over their jeering and I felt the final dirt clod crumble at the impact of my body. I didn't see where they went. I didn't even see them run. I just stayed stuck in my spot, huddled against the wall with my arms and knees barricading my face. I wanted to hide. I wanted to shrivel up into nothing. Nothing would've been better'n scum.

"Asch?" my mother asked gently. I heard the _swish_ of her long skirts and I knew that she was kneeling down by me. "Asch, are ye alright?"

"I'm 'kay," I croaked. It didn't hurt. Honestly, all o' that pain would'a been equal to a couple of knee-scrapes. What _really_ hurt was that cramping in my chest and my lips that I'd bit bloody... Don't ask me why, but that kinda saved me from cryin'... for a while, anyways.

Her paws hooked under my arms and pried them away from me as she lifted upwards.

"What were ya doin' out here?" chided the otterwife, brushing off the clumps of dirt that collected on my orange fur. "You know these little upstarts! They're no good! Just _wait_ 'til I get their ears twisted up in my claws! The nerve of those brutes!" I didn't give her an answer and she didn't need one neither. She knew what it was all about. Six seasons old and my only friends were the officers of Sword, beasts more than quadruple my age at that time.

"When do you ever learn?" she scolded into the air as she escorted me back to our home. Damn. My brave mask didn't even last to the cottage.

"I'm sorry, Ma." I pressed my face into her skirts and made a thousand other muffled apologies while my shoulders quaked and my chest heaved. She didn't know what to say or do. They could say all the kind words 'til they were blue under the fur but it didn't matter a fig. Nothing did.

* * *

"... and this..." The general's palm bounced the shaft of the heavy weapon and I stared at it with dull eyes. I could see my miserable face on the steely reflection.

"... this is a halberd," the otter continued. "Do you know how it's different from the pollaxe?"

I didn't make a sound. I didn't feel up t'speed and Ma was against th' idea of me goin' to trainin' in this state. She told Birger that I was recoverin' from the shock but he said 'orders were orders' and pulled me into Fort Riddian.

"Asch?"

I looked down at my footpaws as if they were real int'restin'.

"Answer when I'm talkin' to ya," came the general's stern voice. I didn't even make a peep and I think that the general would've preferred a full-on outburst over that. "Reply or that's a belt across your sorry bottom," he growled.

"I don't feel so good," I whimpered. I squeezed an arm around my stomach and curled into myself as if anticipatin' a punch. "I wanna go home." I stared down at his footpaws and saw the weight on them roll forward as he leaned towards me.

"Oh?" he asked. I could tell that his surprise wasn't genuine. "A fever?"

"No, sir," I whined. "I just... don't feel good."

"Oh." His claws drummed over the pole of the halberd. "Well I s'pose that one day when you're out in battle, y'can curl up in a ball and explain t'the enemy that you wanna do battle tomorrer because you don't feel too good. I'm sure that would stop the enemy from cleavin' ya in two and he'll just go right home and send you letters wishin' ya well." I cringed at his false understandin'.

"Battle lessons go as planned," he said in a dead-pan tone.

"'S'not like it makes a diff'rence," I muttered under my breath.

"What was that?"

"I said it's not like it makes a diff-er-ence," I enunciated, louder this time since the pigeon was outta the bag. I still didn't look him in the eyes, though.

Dirk breathed in a deep, deep breath as if he were gonna take a dive. "Asch, your father told me what happened yesterday." He pat my shoulder with a sturdy paw.

My vision blurred and I swiped a sleeve over m'eyes. A Swordsbeast was never allowed t'cry.

"A'ight, a'ight," the otter scowled. "Grow up. You're not a _baby_." I looked down at my footpaws again.

The general waited a tick until I was a little calmer. Then he added, "Change o' plans. We're doin' something different today. I want you to go outside and grab some rocks and pebbles. Any size ya want. I'll give you a bucket and I want'cha to fill it."

I jerked my gaze up at his scarred face. "Wha'?"

"Orders are orders," he glowered. He thrust a claw at a mop bucket standin' in the corner of the armory. "Now _move_!"

* * *

I stood in one corner of the training arena while the general stood in the other. Beside me was the bucket o' rocks he told me to gather. They were all ugly and their ridges clogged with dirt and mud and weeds. In fact, I'd say half of them were dirt clods. Shoddy job, I know, but I didn't care at th' time.

"Now here's your first _real_ combat trainin'," boomed the otter. "Do you know what the most important fightin' skill is?"

I twitched my ears and glanced 'round at the beasts sparring in the other areas. "... How t' punch?"

"Wrong, lad!" he yelled from the distance. "It's how t'dodge! How's a beast t'kill ya if he can't touch ya?"

"I..."

"Now I'm gonna run at ya and I want'cha t' chuck those rocks at me."

"What?"

"Clean your ears out, Asch!" He leaned forward, his shoulders squared and knees locked. He looked like he was fit t' charge a badger. "You touch me with a rock- if it even _grazes_ me- then you can go home free. Deal?"

"But I don't wanna-"

"Dammit, brat! Take a good deal when y'see one!"

"Yessir." I gulped and pried two pawfuls of rocks outta the pile. In m' left arm I cradled my weapons while with m' right, I clutched a single pea-sized pebble in my sweaty palm. I'd skipped rocks with Birger before and he said I had a real good throwin' arm. General or not, battle warrior or not, I think it would'a hurt anybeast to get hit in the face with rocks. Pebbles might've been okay, though. He waited until I was done and ready before he nodded a warning to me.

And then he was off.

His speed surprised me. I flung my pebble at him and he took a dodging half-step. I pitched another rock and he twisted out of the way. I felt real fear when I saw this adult bearin' down at me with those steely cold eyes of his. He wasn't slowin' down. I didn't think he'd stop. I grabbed the biggest rock out of my arms and hucked it as hard as I could.

It would've hit him square in the head but he spun in another direction without breaking his stride. He was upon me in three more steps and I yelped as he grabbed my wrists and hoisted me straight up into the air.

The unused pebbles and rocks rained harmlessly onto the ground while I dangled uselessly in his grasp. I hung by my outstretched arms and my paws were so far away from the floor. I gulped and stared straight ahead and into my mentor's eyes. I heard the other sparring beasts stop for a minute just so they could gawk at me.

"See what I mean?" he rumbled. I nodded with two shakes of my head and he let me down gently. The other Swordsbeasts were still gaping at us, mumbling to each other like "The hell was that about?" and "Poor kid" and "General's got his work cut out for that stripling." I'm sure the otter heard them but he didn't acknowledge 'em with a glance or even a pause in breath.

"Now you go to that side and it's my turn to throw rocks." He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder and at the far side of the training area.

"What?" I lost two beats o' my heart right there.

"If you run the entire stretch and touch me without a single hit, then I'd call it a day."

"B-b-but..."

He silenced me with a snap of the wrist. A pebble knocked against my shoulder and I bit back a yelp.

"Stings, doesn't it?" he said casually. "Now you know how badly you want t' avoid it. Well?" He nocked his head to the side and towards my end of the arena. "Get to your post."

"But it'll _hurt_!" Arguin' against an order meant a belt across m' bottom but that was preferable to this madness. Lettin' the general pelt me with rocks? Crazy!

He smiled and shook his head. "Yup. And every pain is a lesson. Now do as I say."

* * *

I was sore the next day and the next and the day after that. Birger was shocked to see the state I was once Dirk was done with me. I bet I was all black and blue under my fur and I had a bump on my head that felt the size of an egg.

Seven tries it took me. Seven trials by fire, so t'speak. He went easy on me. That was the scary part. Every thing he threw at me was a pea-sized little pebble that whizzed and stung like a hornet. And unlike me, he never hesitated to hurt. He told me that an enemy would never hold back and this trainin' was supposed t'be like real stuff.

I guess that was true.

That day, I remember looking behind me to make sure Ma was busy by the cooking fire. She had her back turned on me and I just wanted to catch a bit o' sun. Besides, there was something I wanted to deal with.

I didn't even have to wander far either.

"Vermin nimrev!" announced a voice. It was nasally even by shrew standards.

I turned around and saw that same rabble standing side by side like a sloppy picket fence. I looked over at their leader in the center. It was the same mouse as last time. Tall, probably twelve seasons old, and he was just as mean as before. In one arm he carried a load o' dirt clods and rotten vegetables and in his throwing paw he bounced a pigeon egg.

"You dare to show your face around so soon, ferret?" he jeered. "And from the looks of you, I'd say that some other beasts had the beat on you earlier." He and his cronies laughed at that.

"Throw the rocks," I dared.

"What was that, y'red freak?" shouted the mouse. His tail whipped upwards in expression of shock.

"I said, throw 'em at me. Gimme all y'got!" I challenged. "C'mon!"

I saw him lift his chin as if I'd just said something truly awful. And then I saw his arm pitch backwards and I knew what I had t'do.

The egg streaked by me ear and I heard it whistle past before it shattered against the earth. A rotten apple came at me from another beast and I ducked out of the way.

"Keep your eyes open," the general's words rang in my head. "You need t'watch what's comin'."

I threw myself to the right and narrowly missed another rock as the group gave it their all. I regretted it. I regretted takin' them on but I couldn't stop. I couldn't stop until it was all over. It was like fire burning in my chest and heat unfurling through my veins, adding extra strength to my every move and fanning each angry conviction that burst in my mind.

It was like dodging rainfall. I didn't know how I did it. I spun and twisted and danced out of harm's reach every time, each stroke bringing me a step closer to them. Their aims were close but never close enough and they couldn't make me back out. I wouldn't let them.

"Keep throwing!" came a panicked voice.

My upper body bobbed and weaved while I forced my legs to take a step each time. Their stones and garbage and dirt clods and _everything_ came at me in an odd way. It was like watching something move towards you underwater. They weren't that slow, but I could trace their every arc and every spin and I knew how far each would go or where it would bounce. In my mind I knew everything and it was as if I didn't have control of my body anymore. It just did what it did as if it'd done this a million times.

The picket fence wall of bullies broke with two beasts and then it was like a dam that crumbled at the first crack.

"Gates! Run!" they cried. They didn't have any weapons left and I was only ten paces away. They turned on their heels but I was faster. In those ten quick, furious strides, I was upon them. I hurled myself forward and grabbed their leader's wrists the same way Dirk grabbed mine. I couldn't lift him into the air but I could hold him fast.

"Le'go!" he squealed.

I held on and dug my claws in.

And then...

Nothing.

The general never told me what t'do after I touched 'em. I gulped and looked around at the townsbeasts that stared from windows and at the backs of the other children as they fled the littered scene. The mouse was staring down at me with wide eyes. Even if he was bigger than me and could bowl me over in a single move, he was to terrified to act. Whatever I did in the one minute had changed everything he knew about me for all the past seasons.

With trembling paws, I let him go.

My eyes never left him as I took a few stumbling steps back. Whatever strength and precision I had was completely sapped outta me. He stood there and I walked back home. I didn't need to say anything. Both of us knew he wouldn't bother me again. The only beasts that bothered to make a sound were the townsbeasts murmuring under muted tones.

My mother boxed my ears that night and Birger berated me over dinner but I didn't care. All I wanted was to talk to the general. I wanted him to show me what to do and to teach me more. No more books on weapons, no more history lessons, no more trips to the armory. I wanted to learn the real things. I wanted to learn the art of making my movements meaningful.

For the first time, I wanted to learn how to fight.

The next time I saw him I told him what I did. They couldn't even lay a scratch on me. But he just nodded and looked back at his reports. And then I told him that I didn't hurt the mouse. I didn't say it like something I regretted or something to be proud of. It was a blank matter of fact. And then I asked him why he didn't tell me what t'do when I reached my enemies.

His ears perked at the question and he grinned at me. Come to think of it, it was more knowing than friendly. "Because I wanted to know what kind of fighter you are."

I hoped I didn't disappoint him.

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**A/N: So what do you think? **

**Not as good as my usual stuff, huh? Well as I said, this was merely some of my drabbling that didn't make the cut (too superfluous to TBBU). Anyways, if you have any constructive criticism or anything to add, please let me know. Also, if there's a certain character interaction that you wish to see, send me a PM or review requesting your ideas and if it strikes my creative side, I might just write out the scene.**

**Anyways, thanks for reading and I appreciate any reviews you toss my way! :)  
**


	2. BirgerWayla-A Child's Choice- TBBU Ch 2

**A/N: Special thanks to those who reviewed... Guest, Free Thought, ferretWARLORD, Quaver Ava, and Saraa Luna.**

**And now we have even more childhood snippets from Asch. This one's significantly shorter than anything I usually post but I thought that this would be an interesting tidbit. Enjoy! :)**

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**A Child's Choice  
**Birger/Wayla Waycaster

A simple birthday tradition brings a sense of foreboding.

_Read after Chapter 2 (Prologue II)_

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Wayla bounced the chubby child on her lap as her husband sprawled the gifts over the floor.

"A ink and featherpen from his Uncle Pickner, a traveling satchel from the Sticklespikes down the street, a bouquet from those sisters next door, a beeswax candle- why would anybeast give_ that_ as a gift?" he mumbled as his paw lingered on over the half-used object but he continued to list the items. "Uh... a blanket from you, a dagger from General Dirk, a mortar from..."

The ferretbabe burbled as he toyed with her pendant. There were more presents than she expected. A babe's first nameday was a milestone, after all. However, she recalled her neighbors having more numerous gifts than Asch had received. Double the amount, maybe.

She rubbed at her slightly bulging belly as she inspected the presents from the comforts of her rocking chair. "I don't think that knife should be there," she said.

"Awww, why not?" Birger chuckled. "What are the chances that Asch'd choose that over all of the others? My bet is he'd pick this." He waved a polished compass in the air. It still worked, though its sheen was lackluster and some rough patches hinted at careless handling.

"A life as a sailor," he crowed. "Ah, when I'm old'n grey he can take me out on a boat to feel the sea breeze. I'd have to teach 'im to stay clear of the rocks first!" He looked down again, arranging the gifts to form a ring that nearly took up the entire sitting area.

She hugged the ferret closer to her though he didn't respond. The little one was still far too preoccupied by the pendant, completely unaware at the importance of the ritual. The trial was to mark his place in the world. Each gift denoted a different profession or way of life that the babe would supposedly follow. After all, a beast is usually shows his basest natures as a babe.

And the more gifts from beasts, the more choices a beast had in life. Nobeast was sure what roles a ferret could play in Southsward, but it was an optimistic gauge.

"I fer one hope he chooses the quilt or bouquets," Wayla huffed. "I'd prefer he sticks with my quilting business, but a gardener or farmer would do just fine. So long as he's safe and doesn't go wanderin' off, I think my poor soul can rest easy."

"I'd prefer him to be a farmer in those options," Birger laughed. "A male quilter just seems so... out of place."

"Well, let's get this over with." She hefted the yearling off her lap and handed him to his father.

"Up ya go, son," the otter said with a grunt before plopping the boy at the center of the circle.

"Here ya go, Asch," he said proudly, picking the child up and switching his direction multiple times so that he could survey his options. The ferretbabe blinked and made cooing noises as he studied the miscellaneous objects. "Now git 'em," Birger said, giving him the tiniest nudge in the direction of the compass.

The little one hesitated for a moment before taking off in a steady crawl.

"Whoa! Look'it him go!" Birger cheered. "No no no, wait. The compass is _that_ way, Asch! _That_ way!"

Like a sailboat buffeted by stray winds, the baby started deviating from his instructions and veered off toward the beeswax candles. Wayla _tsk_ed at Birger's attempts to change the ferret's course.

"Birger, he's supposed to lead his own life."

"I know, but- but- awwww... But a boat!" he groaned.

She rubbed her rounded belly as she watched her tiny family pave its way. A First Nameday trial today and in five more months Asch was going to be an older brother. She couldn't wait for that moment. The otterwife frowned as she noticed what had attracted her youngster.

"He's going for the dagger," Birger announced.

"No."

Too late. Before she could intervene, the cub had his chubby paws clasped around the hilt.

"Birger!" she cried. "I told you to take that _thing_ out of the circle." Both son and husband stared up at her as she lunged out of the chair and swiped the weapon out of the cub's paw. He screeched at the sudden denial and held his arms up at the stolen object.

"No!" she scolded, shoving the deadly thing up her sleeve.

"Wayla, c'mon." Birger scooped Asch up in his arms and cradled him against his chest, patting the young one's back as his posture swayed in a rocking motion. The tyke called himself, though the wide-eyed look he gave his mother told her that he didn't forget the fact that he was cheated out of a toy.

"Look," her husband said, "this is no big deal. This is just an old midwives' ritual. Just a game. He won't grow up t'be a soldier, Wayla. You know what I picked when I was a baby? A jar of honey. I don't think I'm gonna go off to tend some bee hives."

"You heard what the general said," she reminded him. "He wants to train him as soon as he's old enough."

"Just a bit o' self-defense," Birger stressed, one paw easing her back into the rocking chair. "Though we hate t'admit it, Asch is gonna get bullied. It's best he learns how to fight for himself."

"Or he could end up like..." The otterwife buried her face in her apron and breathed deeply. She thought of vermin waving cutlasses or flicking a whip into the air. To put a knife in her son's paw was teetering dangerously close to the depictions she'd seen in the paintings and sculptures. They weren't just history lessons, they were Asch's alternate reality. Everything was quiet until she dried her tears. "It's just a game, I know, but what if... What if..."

"He won't," Birger said, every word backed with conviction. "We'll raise him right and he'll be just fine. Quilter, farmer, sailor, soldier, he'll be just. Fine." Asch burbled as if in agreement.

"There. Y'see?" The otter's tone brightened at Asch's disarming smile. "The little 'un agrees with us."

Her heart softened like butter at his face and she held up her arms up in invitation. The baby gurgled and leaned forward, his arms open as she lifted him out of her husband's hold.

_He's right_, she admonished herself. _There's no way such a sweet creature like Asch would do anything of the sort._

"But can we tell everybeast that he picked somethin' else?"

Birger's brows perked "The compass?"

"Yes, the compass," she said with a roll of her eyes.

"Compass it is!" He seemed more gleeful than his son had been just a mere moment ago. "Nothin' but the smell of brine and the winds blowing through my fur! We'll take him fishing and show him the ropes. Oh, and maybe he'll find treasure some day! His fur is bound t'grant him luck out in the open waters."

"Yes, yes," she groaned. "Just pick up the gifts and we'll celebrate with some cake."

"Sounds good t'me," Birger winked. The parents departed, each of them off to complete some chore in preparation. As Wayla carried Asch to the washroom for his bath, she noticed a tug at her sleeve. She looked down and saw the bulge of the forbidden weapon beneath the fabric and the way her son was grappling for it. His clumsy claws couldn't grasp at the hidden object, though he was fascinated at whatever it was.

"It's just a game," she reminded herself. "Just a game."

* * *

**A/N: So there you have it. The Nameday Trial was inspired by an idea introduced by East by Judith Pattou. In it, a child's first gift indicated his/her future interests. Much to the dismay of a mother, her daughter's first gift was a pair of sturdy traveling boots. Asch's alternative to that was a traveler's satchel but nah, he liked the knife better.**

**Well, let me know if the ritual was clear or not and your thoughts about it. :)**


	3. Asch-ObediencePatienceHonestWo rk-TBBUCh...

**A/N: Soooo... Remember when I said I was going to post a non-Asch chapter here? Well, I lied. I don't know why, but I struggle with Miria and Lord Keetch every. Single. Time. There's just something about them that make it difficult. Asch, on the other hand, is just so... easy to manage. He's the oldest child in this case. I'm sorry Free Thought, but you'll have to wait a bit on Lord Keetch's segment. I'm in its editing stage but something doesn't settle right with it. It should be done fairly shortly, though.**

**Special thanks to those who reviewed: Quaver Ava, ferretWARLORD, Free Thought, and Saraa Luna. The rest of you, shame on you for not reviewing. :P**

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**Obedience, Patience, Honest Work**  
Asch Waycaster

In which Asch understands his place in society.

_Read after Chapter 3 (Stolen Warrior)_

* * *

"Just ignore them," Birger told me as I followed him home that day. Believe me, it was hard to deal with the urchins that paraded the streets. I wanted t'do as Birger said, but I knew I was better than 'em. I could grind their faces to the ground in a fair fight. Actually, I was of six seasons and the bullies were all my age or older. It wouldn't even be a fair fight, but age wouldn't change the fact that I'd probably beat the snot outta them.

But I wasn't supposed to challenge them anymore. The last time I did that, Birger's mood was dark and simmering for a full week. He didn't play with me and my parents kept whisperin' to each other. Ma told me that I had best lay low for at least a week, but it was gettin' pretty hard to do.

"Vermin nimrev! Vermin nimrev!"

_Is every walk home gonna be like this? _I asked myself._ If General Dirk were here, these brats would think three times before they tried anythin' snippy on me._ And Birger wasn't too far off from the general himself. He was a newly appointed _captain_ at that point. Sure, he was still more'n a couple rungs down the ladder but he was still higher up.

I liked t'think that I was sorta responsible for his promotion. I mean, right before the promotion, the general otter_ did_ tell Birger that I'd impressed him. Birger could've been promoted as captain to the faraway settlements instead of in the capital; a lot of beasts wanted the capital position, but Dirk liked me enough that he didn't wanna see me move to another area or go fatherless for months at a time. Some Swordbeast told me about that. To me, it was a compliment; I was important to General Dirk. But to Birger... Well, I'd find out seasons down the road that even he had nasty talk t'deal with, too. I mean, it's not every captain that's defined by his son.

"Scumsucker!" hollered the brats.

"Savage peltskinner!"

"Vermin nimrev! Vermin nimrev!" Some clods of dirt and garbage rained down on the spot that we walked ten seconds ago. After the last time I stepped up, they didn't dare hit me with those things. Still, their words stung more than anything they could throw.

"Otter wannabe!"

"Hellspawn!"

"Ugly troutnose!"

"Blood-fur freak!"

"Yah! Your momma took one look at ya and threw you away!"

"Bad luck!" one spat. "_Curse!_ No wonder why the cub died!" I could dodge anythin' they threw at me except for words, and I could bear the pain except for _that_ specific one.

I felt the world tremble with my rage. For a second, I couldn't think or remember my orders or even who I was. All I knew in that instant was that they deserved my pain threefold.

I whirled around like a top and shouted for all the world to hear. "I HATE YOU!" I roared to nobeast in particular. My tormentors scattered behind flimsy barriers like roaches. I had no idea who said the last line, but I knew it was a girl.

"Asch, shut up," Birger warned through grit teeth. He could pretend all he liked, but he definitely heard what that little bastard said. He grabbed me by my shoulder to lead me away, but I was all dizzy with courage.

"GO TO HELL, YOU FILTHY COWARDS! I HOPE YOU ALL DIE! I HOPE Y-"

His paw cracked against my cheek and shattered my defiance. I would've stumbled down int' a puddle if Birger didn't have a paw clamped by the base of my neck.

He looked just as shocked as I felt, but a quiet anger replaced that expression quick. I pressed a paw against my cheek and started to whimper. He had spanked me before, but he'd never slapped me. And he'd never humiliated me in public. The tears felt like hot wire against my skin and a pathetic sound erupted from the back of my throat. I didn't get more than five seconds into it before he dragged me back home, leavin' a trail of laughin' bullies as we went.

The second we got home, he kicked the door shut behind him and I still wailed like a baby when he shook me by the collar of my shirt. "Are you crazy, Asch?" he demanded. "Are ye?"

"No," I sobbed. "What'd I do?"

He shook me harder and cottage walls blurred behind his enraged face. "Tellin' woodlanders t'die?"

"Birger?" Ma showed up and I blubbered even louder for her pity.

"Asch decided he'd get a little wise and cursed beasts on the top of his lungs- for everybeast to hear." He let go of me so that I could bury my face against Ma's apron.

"Ma, he hit me," I complained.

"You _never_ threaten civilians! Ever!" he barked. I squeezed against the otterwife's body and tucked my tail between my legs as I snuffled apologies. For all it was worth, Ma draped a protective arm over my back; but she didn't flare back at him, which wasn't a good sign.

"If you wanna go join the vermin savages outside, g'wan," he seethed. "Nothin's stoppin' ya."

"Birger," Ma said. "Not so loud. The neighbors will hear." The neighbors had to be stone deaf if they didn't hear Birger raging around. The fur around his neck puffed up so much that I thought it was gonna explode, but then he breathed out and it lay flat against his skin again.

"Asch, go to your room and think on what you did," he said softly. He didn't need to tell me twice.

I cried my heart out for at least another hour and I had a feeling that I wasn't gonna get dinner. I heard Ma and Birger talking to each other through the door, throwing accusations around and demanding ideas for what t'do.

"... should not have hit him."

"Did'ja hear what... vermin, for Gate's sake!"

"You were s'posed to be keepin' an eye on him!"

"... control him and... why don't _you_..."

"Birger! Birger, get over here and say that to my face!"

"... won't have any of it... take him away and who knows..."

Their frustration thickened the air and fueled my tears as I buried my head in the pillow. I thought about runnin' away to be free from taunting and find a family that actually had _nice_ kids for me to play with. I took it back, though. The only reason why my parents couldn't have cubs was 'cause of me.

I don't remember when I stopped cryin', but I must've fallen asleep because I woke afraid and in the dark. I didn't want to leave the room. I just wanted to sit, sulk, contemplate the unfairness of life, and plot a childish escape. Birger let me cool down a little bit until mornin' came and even after skipping dinner, I wasn't really hungry.

"Asch, get up," he said. I opened my eyes and saw that the sun was just still climbin' the length of Floret Belltower. "Time for work." The otter sounded back to his usual self but I wanted t'play it safe.

"I don't feel good," I squeaked, facing away from him as I tugged my quilt closer. "Please don't take me to For' Riddian. At least, not today." He sighed and felt my forehead.

"You seem fine."

"My stomach hurts," I mewled.

As grown up and independent as I felt in General Dirk's training, Birger made me feel very small when he scooped me out of bed and, with me still in a cocoon of blankets, sat me on his lap facin' sideways. I didn't know what to do, but I knew I didn't want to talk about yesterday. Me, being only six seasons old, I pulled some loose folds of blanket over my face like a curtain.

"You're gonna be late," I pouted.

"_We_," he corrected and then said, "Look Asch, I don't take back what I said yesterday, but I wish I handled it a bit different." His words were rehearsed. I could tell because he was stealin' Ma's phrase right there. "But you _cannot_ go 'round tellin' beasts that they should die."

I popped my head out of its hiding place. "But they tell me to jump in a ditch and let Fates take care o' my smelly carcass." That one was days old, but I had a good memory for that sorta talk. I wanted the taunting faces branded in my mind so that I could show 'em some of the stuff the general taught me. "They told me that I was hellspawn and said my real Ma was-"

"I know what they said," he reminded. "I heard 'em." I remembered how I showed the other kids that they couldn't pick on me. I didn't hurt any of 'em. I just dodged their throws and scared 'em off, but some stupid old housewives and fathers came complainin' to Birger about it a few days later. All that because I dodged a few dirt clods. The parents weren't even there to see it.

But their coward brats laughed at me even when Birger and Ma were within earshot. If I didn't drag myself home right when the jabs came, my parents called me home for 'dinner' or 'bed' or 'chores' or whatever sad excuse they could come up with. I'd always thought that they simply didn't fight with other beasts and that was how they were. But then I saw the way Birger talked to some of the Swordbeasts that called me names; he didn't yell like our neighbors did, but he said_ something._ I knew he didn't have a problem. At least, not in Fort Riddian.

"Asch," he said slowly, "It's against the rules for you t' say anythin' bad or dangerous to our neighbors, do you understand?"

"But-"

"Not just the neighbors. I'm talkin' about kids, maids, peddlers, fisherbeasts, travelers, porters, beggars... Woodlanders. You must _never_ ever say anythin' bad to them or about them. You are a soldier, and whatever you say reflects badly on Sword."

"But the general said that I couldn't hurt 'em," I objected. "Never said I couldn't _say_ anything."

Birger sighed and looked at the bedroom door. I guess Ma had walked right past to check up on us. "Aye, t'would be worse if you actually hit one of 'em, but it's still not good to talk back. In fact, it's dangerous. If anybeast important hears you talk that way, you might find your tail in the Otterguard's brigs." Still, I tried to find a way to make it difficult for Birger. I knew it was about me bein' a ferret, but I wanted t'make it clear that goodbeasts weren't exactly perfect._  
_

"But the general said the bullies are mangy little runts that wasted air. He said they were fat and weighted down with so much stupid that they could be used as anchors. He didn't care who heard."

"Well..." Birger's face wrinkled as he tried to wriggle out of explainin'. He gave up. "Well, it's different for you because youre a... different sort of beast. We have t'be careful, Asch. Best you just keep your head down and walk away from all that mess."

"But you're not a vermin," I pointed out. "Can't _you_ tell 'em to snuff it?" He gave me a testing frown and I changed my wording. "Er... Tell 'em to shaddup and go home?"

"I'm an adult," he said with a chuckle. "A full-grown otter tossin' himself in the middle of childrens' bickering? It would look pretty foolish, won't it?"

"The _other_ parents say things t'me too, and I'm just a pup. Wouldn't that make 'em foolish?" He opened his mouth but another thought came to me. "And they also argued with you and Ma. You can go and yell at 'em. Holler at 'em until they make their little snotty kids stay outta my way."

"I've tried talking before."

"But you didn't really _yell_ at them. Whenever they yell at you and Ma, you just talk and say you're sorry. You ought'a do the same to them."

"Asch..." He rubbed the back of his neck as he struggled for a way to say it. "I really can't make waves."

I didn't understand.

"In here, at home, and maybe in Fort Riddian, you are my son and I am your father." I nodded solemnly and he continued. "But outside of that, I am not your father- I'm your handler." I frowned a little in confusion. But handlers for the new recruits- the vermin cubs that woodlanders didn't want to adopt, not me.

"But..." I gulped and put a tiny paw on his wrist. "But I live with you and Ma."

"Yes, and I am very glad you do. But sometimes I'll have to treat ya like a recruit." It all made sense now why Birger kept me at an arm's length in Fort Riddian. I thought he was just bein' professional, but it was more than that. "I can't stir up problems, Asch. I can't make a scene to the neighbors or it'll still look bad on you and bring even more attention- the bad kind. The Otterguard kind. A trouble with the patrol means you go in the brig, and maybe the king will hear about it... And that means a lot of trouble."

I always knew I was a thorn in the general's tail, but I didn't know that I weighed my family down with so much worry. I suddenly felt ashamed about the anger I harbored overnight. "I'm sorry," I said with downcast eyes. "I wasn't thinkin' when I yelled at 'em."

He bounced me on his knee, pleased with my apology. "S'alright, Asch. Tempers are somethin' we all have to deal with from time to time. So long as you've learned your lesson, I s'pose. But remember, Asch, because consequences are important. The royal court lets you stay in Southsward with your mother and I because General Dirk asked politely. If they wanted," he said slowly, watching my face with a gentle stare.

"If they wanted," he repeated, "they can take you away."

"To where?"

He frowned. "I-I don't know. But they can only take you away if y'mess up and seem treacherous. Vermin have killed many, many innocent beasts before, and now the woodlanders are afraid. We have to show 'em that you're good and that you mean no harm. That's why you're in Sword. You'll be good, you won't hurt them, you will protect them. Do you understand?"

"_Hurt_ 'em? But I'm so small," I said with a voice that made me sound even smaller.

"They're afraid of what you'll grow into," he said in a slightly exasperated tone. "That's why they were so upset when you did your little stunt a while back. You were so good, you_ scared_ the tails offa 'em. Raaaaah!" He squeezed me and shook me playfully as he roared a pretend battle cry. I giggled as I tried to fight my way out of the tangle of blankets. None of the general's trainin' helped me that time. Birger tickled me until I nearly wet m'self.

He released me and unfolded me from my swaddle. "Now, let's get goin', alright?"

"Yessir." He stood up while I stumbled around to cram m'self into a uniform. The buttons were the worst, but I had the clumsy determination to deal with it myself. I was up to the middle button when Birger spoke up.

"And Asch, look at me," he commanded. Satisfied with my attention, he said, "Just remember that you can't say anythin' to those bullies. Do as I say, don't look at 'em, and don't talk to 'em. Ignore them, and you keep your nose out of trouble. Say what they will about being a vermin because that doesn't matter. If you are obedient, patient, and do honest work, they can never find anythin' solid against you. Remember- obedience, patience, honest work. They _can't_ hurt you that way. Do you understand?"

"Yessir."

"Repeat what I just said.

"Ignore what they say. 'Bedience, patience, honest work. They can't hurt me that way."

"Say it again, and you get candied chestnuts for the way to the fort."

"Ignore what they say. 'Bedience, patience, honest work. They can't hurt me that way," I said with a bob for every word.

"Again."

"Ignore 'em. 'Bedience, patience, honest work. They can't hurt me that way."

"One more time."

"Ignore what they say. 'Bedience, patience, honest work. That way they can't hurt me."

"Louder."

"Ignore what they say," I shouted, keeping my volume in check for the late-rising neighbors. "Obedience, patience, honest work. They can't hurt me that way."

"That's my good lad." He stood to ruffle the fur on my head. "Fast learner, as always."

* * *

**A/N: Some reviewers have noticed that Asch is surprisingly passive towards his treatment as a vermin. This should give you a little insight as to why. He's angry, yes, but where does he put that anger and when does it come out? You'll have to find out later. :)**

**Now, we reach a big weakness of mine: I don't really think I write kids well. I have always treated children like little people instead of actual kids, so I had trouble getting a childish persona down with this piece. When I read this, Asch's dialogue sounds pretty adult and I don't really know how to get some kind of childish vibe out there without blatantly using the word "childish."**

**Any advice?**


	4. Lady Ayda Crestworth-Impression-TBBUCh17

**A/N: Special thanks to Saraa Luna and Free Thought for their review. And an extra special thanks to Free Thought for taking a look at the preliminary for this chapter. It was a _completely_ different storyline and it was driving us both crazy, so I went with this alternative. You see a bit of a different side of Lord Keetch here, so it was pretty hard to crank out and it is longer than I'd like, but I am actually quite happy with it. :)**

* * *

**The Impression That I Get**  
Lady Ayda Swalestrom

In which Lady Ayda recalls her first impressions of Lord Keetch.

_(Read after Chapter 17: Of Pups and Politics)_

* * *

"I've heard he's handsome."

"But they say he's _so_ boring," I replied off-handedly.

"Aye, but that's why you're here. To give the young Lord Keetch a try."

"Keetch," I repeated with a smirk. "It's an odd name. Who names their child that, I wonder?"

"Sounds a bit like a pirate, I think." Deneen paused to buff out a particularly stubborn bump on the edge of my claw.

"Fancy that," I scoffed. "A pirate that bores his enemies to death instead of a proper skewering."

"Maybe he bores beasts in public," she replied with a coy wink. "But if you like, I bet he'd do the latter in private."

I was young, so I couldn't get a grasp on her meaning for the longest time. Finally, I blushed at the comment and forced my attention to the glittering gemstones and strings of sterling silver splayed on the vanity table. It was high time I considered accessorizing my garment.

Pearls were old-fashioned. Sapphires were too common among otters. Emeralds too garish. Opals, I've worn too often. Some rosy pink crystals were very nice, but the contrast against my lavender dress was just...

"Ruby."

The pawmaid stopped polishing the nails on my left paw. "That one, Lady Ayda?"

I held up the round pendant to watch it sparkle in whatever sunlight the ship's windows could give. It glowed as if afire, a searing fleck of sun pinched between a thumb and a foreclaw.

"It's a nice pick, my lady," my maid reassured. She lifted a silver line of necklace from my tray of jewelry and I placed the ruby into her open palm. I had known Deneen since I was a little girl and she always had excellent taste in fashion and beauty. Ah me, at the tender age of fourteen, I was as foolish as I was gangly. Deneen was gorgeous even in a simple frock and apron. Yes, I had plenty of fine jewelry and more dresses than I could count, but I needed all the help I could get.

The servant stepped behind me and looped the jewelry around my neck; I gave a slight lift to my chin as I inspected the way it laid against my budding chest.

"A second, my lady." I heard a faint click of the tiny silver clasp and I stood up to the mirror to get a full view of my handiwork.

"Beautiful, my lady," my mentor beamed.

The lavender satin had a warm look to it and the scallop-fold neckline made it simple, yet elegant. Silver thread curled down the sides of my waistline and made a patterned, waving ring about the hem. The dress itself was lovely- the ruby was just a decorative garnish, if anything. The only drawback was Mother's warning about how stick-necked Southards could be. All the ladies there wore long gowns that never went higher than their ankles. What would they think of the split in my dress? It went all the way up to my knees. Or the fact that my dress was held up by two mere shoulder straps that were the width of my thumb?

_Surely they could understand_, I thought to myself. _A maid can't go on with long, sweeping sleeves all her life. Maybe in Southsward, but certainly not in Parma's awful summer. And it _is_ my favorite dress..._

Looking back, child or not, the gall of me to wear such a thing in front of the Swalestroms.

The harsh ship bells rang out, clanging as an equally raucous voice bellowed orders. The sounds were dampened by distance and walls, but it was enough to tell us that we were less than an hour from the docks.

"Come!" Deneen clasped her paws over my wrist as she urged me towards the door. "I want to see what Floret looks like from the seas." We ran up the stairs and stopped at the side of the ship, giggling and chittering like fools. The pawmaid might have been a few seasons my senior, but she didn't act like it sometimes. It might have been our first time setting foot outside of Parman soil, but Southsward wasn't going to be very different from home. Yes, the Southards were more strict on dress, their species lived amongst each other, and they didn't tolerate any vermin within their walls, but it didn't seem like a new and fascinating place. Still, her enthusiasm was somewhat contagious.

They say that the first thing that anybeast sees is the royal castle. Well that is an outright lie. Before I saw that, I saw large, billowing sails with rainbows of color gliding to and fro. From a distance, they seemed like living kites, but then we saw the leviathans that broke the frothing waves with their sturdy hulls and stirring oars.

And _then_, after a while, I saw the spires of Castle Floret. They seemed like sand-colored claws that spiked out of the ground, seeming to challenge the sky itself. A very impressive sight if one had never seen Parma's Vargo or Triel's Arnet. Both capitals of both kingdoms had either larger castles or taller structures. Southards, however, focused more on city-wide expansion than anything else. At least, that's what Father told me.

Well, Father was right. Floret as a city was more wide-spread than any of Parma's cities. That much could be determined by a simple carriage-ride to the Swalestrom residence. All throughout our ride, Deneen gazed out of the windows to gawk at the peddlers and civilians. It was strange to see so many different creatures living and working together at once. Otters and voles, mice and rabbits, hares and moles, squirrels and hedgehogs- it didn't matter. They didn't care.

I suppose it truly wasn't any shock. Simply put, no other place on the maps works the way Vargo does.

Oh, bugger my husband. He hasn't told you anything about Vargo, has he?

The ride was longer than expected and by the time the carriage went to a halt, I was eager to stretch my legs. How the servants managed to haul their passengers for so long a distance was beyond me.

"Lady Ayda Crestworth!" The jovial booming voice startled me. I whirled around to be greeted by the sight of a large, grinning otter. He sported a vibrant red military uniform bedecked with a collection of medals and ribbons. A white sash crossed over his chest and ended on the opposite side of his hip and I could tell that his golden buttons had been polished very recently. Despite all this fine trimming, the otter had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Most nobles would've found it insulting, but I was relieved. If Lord Swalestrom allowed his underlings to be so lax, it certainly said a lot about his nature.

Deneen curtsied and I did the same.

"Hello sir," I greeted.

"My lady." The strange otter bowed low and seemed to bounce right back up to his original posture. "Lord Galen Swalestrom, Skipper of the Southsward Otterguard, at your service."

"Lord Galen?" I chuckled nervously. "_You_ are Lord Galen?" He was still smiling. "But you're... you're..." He leaned forward a little bit, hanging on my every bumbling word until I finished the sentence. "... You're... it's not customary for a lord to greet his guests right outside the carriage."

"Oh." He reared his head back and barked one syllable of a laugh. "For a second there, I thought you were going to tell me you pictured me taller."

It took my mind a second to register his comment as a joke. In the end, it was Deneen's giggle that gave me the final clue.

"No no no no. Not at all!" I shook my head wildly and my smile cracked even wider as I tried to right the situation. All the while, I couldn't help but think that he was so refreshing a character. Never mind that he was born and raised a peasant.

"Naw, I was just taking a stroll when I saw your carriage wheel in. I was just so excited to meet you that I decided to greet you on the spot," he said with an easy shrug. "You were due midday but it's just the mornin'."

I blushed. "I'm sorry for the inconven-"

"Ha! Eager t'meet the family, eh? Now come in, come in, both of ye. I'll have somebeast grab you a shawl, my lady. You can't just walk around with your shoulders bare that way. Come along. I want you to meet my son."

* * *

We went through the double doors and ventured through the main room, up gently curved stairs, and though another doorway. All the while, Lord Galen never stopped talking about what a pleasure it was to see me and how pleased he was to have a guest. Straight-laced servants passed us by with silver trays, satin pillows, and armfuls of folded linen. Here and there, ornate vases held a place by a lace-curtained window, and the floors were made of the smoothest hazel marble. Here and there, a glittering chandelier floated above our heads, scattering the sunlight to add to the beauty of it all. The architecture and size might have been rather ordinary, but the tastes and luxuries were lavish even by noblebeast standards. I suppose I shouldn't have underestimated the wealth and inheritance of Lady Bellamy Swalestrom.

"Here we are!" chimed the lord. The otter paused at one last doorway before turning the knob and ushering us in. The walls of the sitting room were filled with mirrors of every size and shape. Crystals shimmered by the only two windows in the room, casting everything aglow for just a moment. Goodness, my first inclination was that I was in a glass palace!

And there, sitting on the floor with some blocks and playthings, were two young otters dressed in simple, yet elegant attire. A boy and a girl. Siblings, it seemed.

"Oh!" Lord Galen threw his paws in the air in mock outrage. "Where's your brother?"

"He said he had to deal with an errand," the little girl piped up.

"He can never stay put these days," the otterlord chuckled before sweeping his arms in a welcoming gesture. Deneen and I followed his instructions and settled ourselves onto a couch across from the pups.

"My lady," Lord Galen announced with pride. "Here're two of my scamp children. They'll deal with the introductions while I get my other one." He exited the room in a flush, and then, as if speaking loudly to the halls, "I _told_ that boy to be early and prepared!" With that, he left Deneen and I alone with the little lord and lady. After a moment's pause, the young lord stood up and performed a gawky bow that somehow reflected a bit of his father's charm.

"It's real nice to meet you, Lady Ayda."

Well he was certainly younger than I imagined but he had his father's cheerful blue eyes and an expression of awe. From his appearance, he was only at ten seasons of age. It was unconventional, but noble marriages could be arranged between an older maid and a younger gentlebeast. Well, given ten more seasons, he was sure to be handsome. Besides, four seasons was not a very large age gap to cross.

"Hello," chirped the young maiden beside him. She was a darling thing with quick, inquisitive gray eyes and slightly darker fur than her brother. "My name's Corinne," she said with a tiny curtsy.

"Hello, both of you." I didn't have to pretend to be charmed. "I am Lady Ayda Crestworth and this is my pawmaid Deneen. We are very pleased to be your guests in your lovely home." I finished with my own bob of a curtsy.

The two children still gaped at me until the girl asked very innocently, "Did a servant ruin your dress? It's all cut up _everywhere!"_ She pointed at the split on the side of my gown and the two thin straps that ran over my shoulders.

"Er... The all the girls in Parma wear dresses like this," I said with an airy giggle. Corinne simply gave me a perplexed look before looking down at her own conservative clothing.

"You're really pretty, Lady Ayda..." Her older brother paused to grind a toe in the ground while he dodged eye contact. Awkward and unconventional as our introduction was, I blushed at his compliment. He really was sweet... Sweet enough that I reconsidered my idea of marrying Sir Winchell of the Jayso Isles. He was appealing to the eye and every eligible ottermaid begged his attention, but he was a bully to his servants and never actually sincere with his words. For a second, I felt as though my conflicts had finally resolved myself.

But then the young lord's next words shattered everything.

"... Is it true you're going to marry my brother?"

I held my breath. "Brother?"

"Father's trying to find him," Corinne replied.

"... Oh..."

As if on cue, I heard the door open behind me.

"Lady Ayda Crestworth?"

I turned at the unfamiliar voice just in time to see its owner close the door behind him. He was no servant, that was certain. Every stride had the confidence of a highborn and his clothes were fine enough to match his siblings'. Unlike the little lord that unintentionally misled me, this one was older than me by no more than one season.

"Lady Ayda, excuse my late entrance," he said as he tried to disguise the panting in his voice. Clearly, he had heard of my early arrival and come running in so as not to be rude. "Lord Keetch Swalestrom, at your service." He performed a smooth, proper, arcing bow. It was true Lord Keetch was handsome enough, but he wasn't much like his father in appearance or personality. His bones hadn't matured or filled in completely, but I could still tell that he had a more square chin and broader body structure than his father. And he was so... serious. Stern, really... As if he was already looking for fault in me.

"Pleased to meet you, Lord Keetch," I introduced with a fluttering curtsy. "I am Lady Ayda and this is my pawmaid, Deneen." The ottermaid performed a curtsy in turn. For once, Lord Keetch tore his gaze away from me and looked upon my companion. His expression softened and he beheld her for one more second than was necessary. It was obvious what he was thinking.

I broke the disheartening moment with a question. "So if you don't mind me asking, my lord, what is it that preoccupied you until this point?"

He dodged the question with the phrase "Nothing worth mentioning." A typical lord, assuming that I didn't have the capacity to understand or care. I wanted to insist he tell me, but better judgement told me to let the matter rest.

And then he had the nerve to look my 'scanty' dress over and say with curt indifference, "And we _must_ take you to a tailor. All of the ones in Southsward know how to make proper clothes." There was something difficult about this lord. He just rubbed me the wrong way and began to have serious doubts about the possibilities of a marriage.

It was a shame, though. I so very much liked his family, as jumbled as they were a mix of half river otters and half sea otters. Such unions were not too uncommon but they weren't encouraged either. But then again, that detail didn't really bog them down at all.

Lord Galen was as gregarious as he was kind and it really was too bad that his eldest son had never inherited the first trait. Lady Bellamy was a little more cold at the start, but I like to think that she had grown fond of me in the two weeks that I lived under their roof.

I actually think that every lady should aspire to become like her. She had excellent taste in fashion and she was surprisingly good to her children. Unlike the Parman mothers, Southard ladies kept their infants at bay. Instead of a mother's love, the children received the sterile care of nurses and maids- creatures that only substituted the parental bond when offered coin. But with Lady Bellamy and her children, I couldn't tell the difference. She was so beautiful too. I guess the story was true about how the love for one maid managed to split the bond between two strong friends. I suppose that's why Lord Galen didn't want to talk about his past too much.

Lord Keetch, however, was overly fond of his own past (however short it was). He was polite enough throughout my visit, though there was absolutely no connection between us. Any polite chit-chat was restricted to his own self-important monologues and Southard history. Bo-ring! Absolutely boring. He enjoyed the conversations well enough but, despite my quivering smile, I was inches from ripping my own ears off.

But Gavin and little Corinne? I_ adored_ them. Deneen and I would go out with them in the courtyard to play in the sun and they would take us to see all the jewelers and artisans of Floret. But every time we finished, I dreaded returning to Castle Terrace where I would have to dodge my suitor. It wasn't just direct conversations where I found myself irked, but even when I spoke to another beast, Keetch liked to interrupt. If I spoke about Parma, he spoke about Southsward. If I discussed my aptitude in any skill, he had to talk about his own accomplishments. Talk of music distracted into the topic of swordfights, dance to archery, reading to sums. Always, he spoiled everything with his constant interruptions. Even Lady Bellamy had to distract him with a bland task so that we could carry a proper conversation between us.

"I apologize for him," she once said with a nervous chuckle. "He never gets like this with anybeast else." I was glad for it. If he kept this up with everybeast, the Swalestroms would have been avoided as a whole. I didn't care what Father said about a suitable match. Profit or not, I was not going to be tied down to that boorish, little, self-centered child.

Lord Keetch could do as he liked, but he certainly was not going to ruin my trip. It was a shame, though. Truly, it was. Mother always stressed upon me that the groom's family was just as important a consideration as the groom himself. I loved them, and they me. But then Keetch was the second half of the consideration.

It was like having a slice of delicious cake but half of it was covered in sludge. There was no getting around the muck. I would have to either toss it or try to enjoy it despite the disgusting addition. Why couldn't Gavin have been firstborn instead?

I carried on with my trip, my heart burdened by the knowledge what it was that I had to do. But as fanciful as my visit had been, I found myself listless and bored three days before my departure. I had done everything and anything that I could realistically hope for. The only thing I still had yet to do was to meet King Darian, but Lord Galen had reservations about making such an outlandish appointment at my request.

I could have shopped, but I had already bought enough dead weight to sink a ship. I could have gone ballroom dancing again, but there wasn't going to be another one until a fortnight. Sightseeing, I had done. And I would have went to the park to bask in sunlight, but the weather didn't look like it would amount to anything pleasant. I wagered a Silver with Deneen that the sun would finally shine right after we left the port. Seeing as how Father was trying to make a match of Lord Keetch and I, it just seemed to be my luck. I would have carried on with my listless behavior, but dear Gavin would have none of it.

"Come on, Ayda! You too, Deneen!" he urged, pulling us both by our paws and into the halls.

"Let's see! Let's see!" chimed his little sister. The girl was small, even for her age, and stood at the tips of her toes to turn a doorknob.

"But uh..." I resisted Gavin's tugs and smoothed my skirt, gently brushing his paws away from me. "But that's Keetch's bed chambers," I pointed out.

"He won't mind!" Corinne promised, giggling with delight as she pushed the door ajar.

"Yeah!" Gavin agreed. "It's not like we're gonna let him catch us anyways!" I did not like the sound of that.

Corinne traipsed into the room and Gavin followed, whooping as he did so. I faltered by the door and rubbed my paws over each other again and again and again. The young lord was a very private sort of fellow. He would be vexed just to know of his siblings' intrusion- not to mention my own.

"My lady," Deneen said softly. "We best not."

"Yes, yes, I know," I replied, walking briskly away to escape the scene of the crime.

"But Laaaaady Aydaaaaa!" two voices called in unison. They always used a more formal title when they _really_ wanted something from me.

"Ayda!" Gavin stumbled over to me. The boy had run no more than twenty paces and already he was out of breath. He hopped about, cupping something in those childish paws of his. Whatever that thing was, it was small and disc-like, protruding from his paws.

"Gaviiin! Gavin!" Corinne scolded. "Don't shake him! You know what Keetch said!" The youngster stopped his bouncing at once and proceeded to hide the secret item behind his back while grinning like a minor villain.

"Guess what I have," he teased.

"You'll never guess!" his sister squeaked with a skip and a hop.

"A... book?" was Deneen's answer.

"Wrong!" they exclaimed. Then they turned expectantly to me, their eyes wide with their monstrous appetite for mischief and games. Whatever it was, it was something that demanded double their usual dose of excitement.

"A small painting?" Oh, I don't know what it could've possibly been.

Corinne glee grew over our failures but Gavin suddenly became silent. "What we'll show you is a secret," he said. At his tone, even Corinne halted her prancing. "You're our friends, aren't you?"

"Of_ course_ we are."

"Yes."

"You won't hurt him or tell my parents?" I did not know of whom Gavin was referring to, but I didn't wish to harm anything. I nodded, quietly giddy with anticipation. Whatever incriminating thing they held, Keetch was a part of it. My curiosity was overwhelming.

"Yes," I said. Deneen gave me an incredulous look.

Gavin smiled and brought the item in front of me. The thing was sandwiched between his two paws, and he slowly lifted the top paw from obscuring my view. There, resting on his open palm, was a tiny little desert tortoise. Its shell was beautiful: a diamond-hatched pattern of soft tan and burnt black. Its diameter was no bigger than the width of a wine glass and it had its yellowy, scaled limbs and head tucked in tight within the shell. I brushed a claw over its pointed nose and nearly squealed with delight when it shrank even farther into its shelter. I'd never seen a tortoise before, not a _live _one, anyways.

"Keetch says we're not supposed to tell the adults," Corinne warned.

"We're not supposed to have Sir Tortimer," Gavin finished.

"Why not?" asked Deneen.

Gavin gave the area a furtive look while Corinne pried the helpless creature from his grasp. "They were gonna cook him," he began.

"Who's they?" I asked as I observed the little thing.

_"Gavin!"_

The children whirled at the noise and I gulped at the accusing tone. Lord Keetch stood in the hall, strands of spinach and folds of lettuce clutched in his paws. His countenance was a mix of shock and fear and anger. We all stood still for a moment- long enough for him to shovel us into his room. Then, in the dim area, he leaned a heavy chair against the door as though a burglar would arrive at any minute.

Corinne began to sob to herself when he snatched the tortoise from her, put it in a box, and slid it under a bed. "But I want it," she whined. He turned and frowned at me with a fierce and accusing sort of look.

"They didn't do anything!" Gavin defended. "It was my idea. I wanted them to see Sir Tortimer."

"Gates, Gavin!" he swore. "Can't you keep your humongous mouth _shut_?" For once, the stern and by-the-book Lord Keetch had lost the importance of an even tone and spotless conversation.

"They won't tell anyone," persisted the younger lordling. "Lady Ayda's too nice!"

"No," he fumed. "Absolutely not!"

"Well I already know _now_," I intervened. "What happened doesn't matter quite so much as what I'll do afterwards." A silence stretched over us like a wet blanket. I wasn't sure if that was the right thing to say, but it felt right. Then, "The pigeon's out of the bag now, as you say."

"Blackmail?" Keetch snorted. "Is that what'll happen now?"

"Not at all!" I replied, my eyes straying to the sad little box under his bed. "But if you could, I'd like to see the little thing... This... Sir Tortimer." His look was appraising and I scoffed, "What could I gain by telling anybeast?" The lord calculated a bit in his head, processing each possible outcome. Meanwhile, Gavin inched towards the box, checking for signs of his brother's disapproval as he did so.

Everybeast was quiet as he drew out the container and cupped his paws around the tiny creature inside. Lord Keetch might as well have been a statue through that awkward part. Confident that the worst was over, Deneen stood up and opened the curtains a little so that we could see the exact nature of our "confines."

The walls, like everywhere else in the castle, was made of smooth, wheat-colored sandstone. It was about thirty paces across and contained a simple bureau, several large bookshelves, a few jars of seashells and plants, and an impressive display of colorful rocks that glittered at the touch of light. _It seems that our young lord is a collector of artifacts,_ I thought to myself.

The two younger children sat on the ground as they handled the tortoise.

"He's littler than me!" Corinne announced proudly. "He's only just a baby."

"You have to talk quietly," Gavin instructed, imitating his brother's stern scowl. It was close in appearance, but his eyes were laughing.

Not one to be outdone in terms of turtle care, Corinne added "And you _have_ to say nice things or he won't grow."

"Hello, little one," cooed Deneen, humoring the childish perception of their pet. "You are _beautiful_." She slid her paws behind the back of her legs to smooth her dress before she joined them on the floor. The inquisitive pawmaid was more than thrilled when Gavin put the infant thing on her lap. Only Lord Keetch and I hung back from the spectacle.

Then Corinne stood up and grabbed at the front of Keetch's shirt while she hopped about, a baby bird noisily demanding food from its mother. "Keetch! Keetch! Lettuce! Spinach! Now!" I had almost forgotten that he held the vegetables tucked under one arm. He bent down on one knee, though he was still above her eye level.

"Alright," he said with a surprising amount of patience. "But you promise me you will not shove the food in his face like last time."

"Okay."

He sighed and surrendered the greens to her, to which she chirped a "thank you!" and distributed the leaves amongst her friends. The turtle, however, was still too shy to leave his shell.

"Now why is this Sir Tortimer such a secret?" I asked the eldest lordling.

He cocked his head to the side and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well... he was not attained through the legal procedure of-"

"We stole him!" Gavin interrupted. Keetch shot him a withering look that shut up the overgrown cub.

"Yes, exactly as my brother says," he admitted with an exhale. "When at a lord's dinner party, my brother and sister stole away to the kitchens. There, they saw Sir Tortimer living in a crate with his mother and siblings. They played with the creatures a good bit before the servants told them to return to the dining room. During a lull in between meals, Gavin asked to be excused for the washroom but instead went to play with the crate of turtles."

"Look- lookit!" Corinne squealed, pointing at the turtle who had finally found his appetite. The little reptile was chomping tentatively away at fat lettuce leaf while it eyed its caretakers suspiciously.

"Corinne, not so loud," scolded Keetch. She clapped both paws over her mouth and looked away.

"What happened next?" asked Deneen.

"The crate was on a countertop and he saw..." the eldest Swalestrom frowned, unable to speak for once.

"They threw Sir Tortimer's mom in a stew," Gavin said lowly. "Then the servant took pawfuls of the babies and tossed 'em inside like carrots. I was watching in a corner because I wasn't supposed to be there, and then another cook called him over to look at something real quick. When he was gone, I reached in the crate and grabbed Sir Tortimer and ran faster'n my tail could follow."

"How sad," I muttered. It was a childish thing to mourn over food, but some ignorant part of me had never quite realized the tragedy of delicacies and cuisines. Desert tortoise stew, salty and filling and delicious, was said to bring long life and tenacity to all who consumed it, but it was silly for anybeast to believe one could draw extra life from something already dead.

We left it at that, but Lord Keetch and I finally had something of interest to discuss. He knew all sorts of things about how to care for the stupid creatures that we ate for dinner. He was a fastidious reader and- Did you know that tortoises and turtles were different? We talked about that, and how many eggs they laid, what they ate, how big they grew, and how long they lived. Well, he_ had_ to know these things, since he was the primary caretaker of poor, orphaned Sir Tortimer.

He told me about how Corinne bawled when they lifted the cover off the stew and how Gavin actually retched his meal. It was only after the lord's event that Gavin entrusted the turtle's care to his older brother. Any other beast would have simply handed the tiny thing to the proper authorities, but I figured at that moment that the bristling child-lord had a heart somewhere inside him. It was a very brave thing- especially considering that the tortoises were gifts from King Darian to Lord Harmon. To think that young Gavin had inwittingly (and indirectly) stolen from his own king! Well, it was no wonder why the tortoise was a secret.

We talked many times in private in the last two days, turning our backs to Lord and Lady Swalestrom while they gossiped excitedly to each other. When the sky miraculously cleared, we went on calming nature walks where he identified birds and flowers for me. I'd read in books that gallant knights and noble lords would pluck the most beautiful flower and give it to his love. Keetch didn't read those books so did no such thing, but I suppose that I would've been shocked beyond belief if he did that. And when it became dark, he would point at the stars and explain the constellations and all manners of things that seafarers would know. I would not say that the last few days were the best during my visit, but they were certainly the most interesting.

And finally, the day came when I had to depart. We stood on the rough, wooden docks that stood on trunk-like stilts above the shore. The air was warm and briny, and gulls and pigeons wheeled about with squabbling cries while the sailors bellowed orders. Surrounded by boats and bustling creatures and cargo, it was not the most serene of places. I said my warmest farewells, hugged Gavin and little Corinne, and allowed Lord Keetch to kiss the back of my paw. Gavin looked glum while Corinne dried some of her stray tears.

"Don't worry," I promised. "I'll come back soon."

"Does that mean you'll marry Keetch?" Corinne pressured cheekily. I blushed while Lady Bellamy chided her daughter and Lord Galen heaved another hearty guffaw. The topic of discussion, however, had little to no reaction. I supposed that he liked to save face in front of his parents, though I couldn't understand _why_.

I regained my composure and said to my suitor, "We _will_ meet again, won't we?"

"I should hope we do," he said with a _harrumph_, pretending to sound old and disinterested at the same time. At _that_ exact moment, a miracle fell from the sky to break the ungraceful atmosphere; from the air it plummeted... right onto Lord Keetch's shoulder. The young lord gaped at the unsightly white blotch while the rest of us burst into laughter. Even Lady Bellamy had to cover her mouth with a sleeve while she held her stomach.

"Keetch," laughed Lord Galen, "Quick! Close your mouth a'fore another one of 'em builds a nest in there!" At that, we spouted off into more fits.

The otter gave us his typical scowl and looked up at the lone pigeon perched upon the wooden arch above us. If looks could kill, all of the birds in Southsward would have fallen dead on their backs.

_Coooo_, it mocked.

"Imbecile bird has a brain the size of a walnut," Keetch growled.

"Well look at that," I hooted with unladylike vigor, "It had quite a lot to say about your taste in fashion!"

* * *

Five seasons later and I had found myself coaching that lout on how to hold an infant. It was no knight in shining armor that swept me off my footpaws. No, Lord Keetch didn't even do that part. But every couple is drawn together by something, I suppose. Be it wealth, power, love, boredom, there's always _something._ For us, wealth and power were just the half of it. The rest was due to the contribution of his family and, of course, a tortoise and pigeon dropping- the dropping the least significant of all, but it was always odd to my father that I would laugh when he asked if the departure was heartfelt.

"I am a very busy beast," my husband reminded me, squirming in his seat as though his footpaws had a life of their own. Fathers never take to children quite as quickly as mothers do.

"Just _five_ minutes," I insisted. From his chair, he looked up at me while he held our daughter in the way one holds a grudge- tight and awkward. The little one wriggled in complaint and she began to pant into a fuss.

"And it's customary in Parma for fathers to _at least_ hold their children once a blue moon. I carried her constantly for nine months, so you could spare a minute or two every now and then."

"Do not forget that I aided you throughout your pregnancy," he argued softly, afraid he'd bring about his daughter's boisterous wrath.

"Oh _yes,_" I smirked. "You helped alright- for the first five seconds." His eyes popped at the insinuation.

"I was referring to the financial and emotional suppo- Fine!" he huffed. And then he looked back at sweet little Arlie. "You know, I resent this."

"Oh, you resent everything," I clucked. "Now stop smothering her- don't curl your arms around her. Goodness! You look as if some fiend is seconds from snatching her! Yes. Now slowly shift your arms underneath her. Yes, go on. I'll catch her if you slip up." I guided his clumsy arms around the infant until it served as a passable cradle: her head nestled on the inside of his elbow, his arm supporting the length of her back, and her body cupped between his chest and a protective arm.

"There," I encouraged him. He looked down at the sleeping babe that gurgled in her dreams. "See? She likes you." His expression was unreadable- bored, perhaps, but at least he'd stopped trying to escape. With the way the bronze morning sunlight washed over our bedroom and the way his face hovered above her, I thought that it looked almost picturesque- something fit for a painting if only they could keep the pose for so long.

It did not surprise me when Arlie broke the reverie, but I was taken aback by her method. She simply turned her head towards her father and in an explosive gesture, she spat up her breakfast on his uniform. Keetch bristled in place and grimaced at the sight of the bubbling, milky splat-mark that dribbled downward from the spot over his heart.

"This is _clean_," he complained. I held back a snort as I traded him a handkerchief for my newborn.

He dabbed gingerly at the mess, all the while muttering that he wasn't sure if the servants could save his fancy red tunic. To this I assuaged his fears while he continued griping.

"Oh," I giggled on his way out. "And you should be proud of your daughter. A month old and she's already a fashion critic. What an accomplishment!" I tilted the infant to show him her gaping smile while he rolled his eyes.

It was a start.

* * *

**A/N: I really like writing these little segments because I never have to worry about them detracting from the main storyline and they're even more fun to read because if you don't like it halfway, you can skip it without worrying about missing something crucial.**

**So... Lord Keetch is not without quirks and we find here that he is quite the nature-lover. Remember, guys, chicks love animal-lovers. Write that down if you have to! Sadly, turtles are a delicacy in many countries and it's so heartbreaking to know that they actually do just throw them alive in stews a lot of times. Awful stuff. :( It's the reason why I'm a vegetarian.**

**And on a brighter note, turns out that our uppity lord is kinda whipped. :P**


	5. MiriaInlo-The Lore- TBBU Ch 7

**A/N: Special thanks to last update's reviewers - Free Thought, Saraa Luna, and Airan's Enigma. I also want to give a shout-out to Quaver Ava, who insisted upon an Inlo-centric chapter. This one probably is not what he had in mind, but I liked the idea of focusing on the wolf lore.**

**This was the original copy of what is now the chapter "Ghost and Idiot" of The Blood Between Us. In fact, you'll see a lot of similarities between the dialogue and actions of the two chapters.**

* * *

**The Lore  
**Miria Wildshore

In which Inlo tells some wolf mythology to the ever-patient Miria.

_Read after Chapter 7 (Stepping Along)._

* * *

I licked the stick clean and tossed it into the crackling fire, leaning back and stretching as I draped an arm over my belly.

"That wasn't bad, runt," I sighed. "If you said y'could cook then I would've probably been quicker to be your bodyguard." I'm pretty sure that I'd said that every single day for the past week straight. S'not that I wanted him t'feel good or anythin', I just wanted to make sure he kept up the good work. Kilmar had taught me that there are three types o' beasts in the world: those driven by coin, those saps that believe that a 'job well done' was a good-'nuff reward, and then there were lazy bastards that did whatever they liked. Well, I figured that Inlo was the second option.

I'll say it again- I just wanted to make sure he kept the good food coming.

"You are finished with your meal, yes?" the wolf rumbled. He had been sitting on his tail the entire time, watching me eat and waiting for his turn. Don't ask me what it is with those wolves, but they have one backwards culture. Somethin' about elders and 'highbeasts' gettin' first dibs while the others wait or somethin' like that. Whatever it was, no complaints here.

"Yeah, yeah," I waved lazily. "Eat what'cha need." He must've been starving 'cause he practically ate three fish in one fell swoop. I'm tellin' ya, judgin' from his appetite he wouldn't be a 'runt' much longer. He was lucky that us otters are good at fishin'. Not to mention that luck was on our side that day. Four good-sized fish in the late fall was a pretty rare thing.

Really, I thought that the going would be rougher than this. It was a little soggy and chilly most times but nothing near as bad as I anticipated. And going by the flush of trees and annoying songbirds I could already tell we were making good progress. I was actually in a good mood... most likely the doing of a full stomach and all.

"Hey, runt. Got any more stories to tell?" I asked. I cupped me paws under the back of my neck as I watched the half-veiled stars. Don't get me wrong. I don't like his stories or anything like that. I'll tell ya simple: his stories put me right t'sleep. That night I got to snooze on first watch and I wanted to make the most of it. So if you think that I was goin' soft on him then you can take those addle-brained ideas outta your head, stuff it in your pipe, and smoke on _that_!

"Miss Miria, you are fond of the lore?"

I inclined my head a little and saw him licking a fish bone so clean that you could see it sparkle.

"You got one or not?" There was a slight pause. "And you'd better pick a good one! No more tripe about a giant tree that keeps mountains from crumblin' or any o' that rubbish!" I wasn't watching him but I was pretty sure that his ear twitched with annoyance. A long stretch of silence followed while I got a little more comfortable- my satchel for a pillow, my traveler's cloak for a blanket, and both legs stretched out.

"Do you wish to hear about the sun and moon?" he asked. I heard the dirt scrape along the ground as he scooted over to a nearby trunk and rested his over-sized head on it.

I shrugged. "Might as well."

He cleared his throat so loudly that I actually thought a frog was gonna shoot out of it. It didn't make a lick of difference either. Either way, his voice still sounded gravelly and dull and had the occasional squeak of a boy going through the typical changes.

"The world was young and was ruled by Astrel and Gallo. Astrel was-"

"Yeah, I _know_," I yawned. "You tell me this _every _single blasted time you begin a story. Astrel is the spirit of spring and summer, daylight and life. Gallo is her brother an' the spirit of fall and winter and keeper of the jolly dead and the creepy-crawlies of night. Get on with it."

Another ear twitched. "Your impatience is a sign of attention," he mumbled to himself before renewing his perky little attitude. "Astrel is known for kindness and warmth but sometimes the power of a spirit is cruel. It is unwise to cross a spirit even in her most trivial requests. The sun and moon were created just so.

"Near the beginning, the world used to be dark and beasts could not see without Astrel. The spirit of the light, wrapped in her glowing cloak, used to travel across the lands as she watched the creatures beneath her. In return, the beasts would look up sadly at the beautiful world that they could not see. It was the fate of all beasts to die in the dark.

But one day, upon her travels, Astrel saw a red fox and fell madly in love with him. Athrun was his name and he was a strong warrior and the son of a very powerful chieftain. As a gift, she turned his hide to the shade of the brightest flames that glowed even in the darkness. All save for his nose, he had the greatest red color one had ever seen and many called him the handsomest."

I stretched my mouth open and made a gagging sound. I knew how this was gonna pan out.

"She bade him to join her but he refused. Many times she came back and asked him, but he still always refused. The spirit of light could not understand. She had given him his beautiful coat. How could he refuse? One day, Astrel borrowed her brother's dark cloak and followed him and discovered that he had already given himself to a snow fox as white and lustrous as the purest, freshest snow. Sayle was her name and they were to elope soon."

Another gag for that one!

"In her fury, she _threw_ them both into the sky for all the world to see their shame." The runt swung a meaty fist in the air and nearly knocked over a bag of provisions. But did he care? No. He just continued with his dumb story, waggin' his tail like it was on fire.

"There they hung, a world apart from each other. Athrun, with his blazing fur, became the sun while Sayle, with her glowing white coat, became the moon. Astrel cursed them to forever chase each other across the skies, to fly over mountains and drown in the sea every single day. But ages passed and the two lovers did not lose their hope.

"Furious, Astrel laid another curse on Sayle so that she would change form with every passing sunset. The moon would grow and wane over time, suffering from the curse of the daylight spirit. But Athrun cannot be tricked so easily. He still follows on. To this day, they still try to find each other."

"Wow," I snorted, chucklin' to myself. "She sounds like a real hellion. Good thing Athrun didn't bite the bait on that hook. Can ya imagine what she'd be like if he stayed too late at a tavern? Ha!"

He blinked at me with his dull amber eyes. "... I do not understand the meaning..."

"Nevermind." I waved him off.

"She was not always unmerciful," he pointed out. "Some days, once every hundred seasons, she feels pity for them and lets them meet in the sky. They say the world becomes black again, just as the days of old. No moonlight, not even starlight. Just a fiery ring in the sky. But the meeting is fleeting as a storm. Life goes back to what it should and beasts pay their respects to bright Athrun who grows their crops and breaks them from sleep. They thank graceful Sayle as well, grateful to her for lighting the dark for weary travelers and for pulling the tides that raise the fish. Forever, they do their duty to the lands and forever chase one another. That has been so since even before the Wolf's Way and will stay after the Way is gone."

"I'll say it again," I said. "A real hell spit, that one. Say... Thought you wolves hated vermin."

"That is truth."

"Well, the sun and moon are foxes in this story, stupid."

"Yes."

I sighed and threw a dirt-clod at him. I missed, but some grains rained on his mongrel face. "Well, you almost make the vermin sound good in this story. Hell, if they're the sun and moon, you make 'em sound powerful."

"That's because they were before the Wolf's Way," he shrugged.

"What in blazes does that even mean?!"

Inlo's ears gave a little spasm as he rubbed his little brains together. "The Wolf's Way came after Gallo killed the giant serpent that wanted to swallow whole..." He spotted my glare and continued.

"Do you want me to tell?"

"Whatever floats your boat," I snorted.

"Well..." He paused to angle his ears, thinkin' of the best place to start. It was bound t'be loony, so I wondered why the runt even bothered t'try to make it sound right. That was Inlo, though - always tryin' to make nice and entertain. He would've done good in a circus troupe. I wish he was in mine.

Not that he would've survived a month in that business or made friends or anythin'. It's just that, story-teller and muscle-freak, he would've brought in a lot of coin.

* * *

**A/N: I'm a bit of a mythology enthusiast, and the story of Athrun and Sayle was one that I used in high school when I had to write my own origin mythology. It was the story I was most proud of and I got an A. :) Still, I find that my myths are lacking compared to those of the great Richard Adams, author of Watership Down. Anybody who's read the book or watched the movie knows what I'm talking about. :)**

**I have a few more bits of mythology stored somewhere in my head. So... if you want to hear more of Inlo's mythology, please be sure to say so in your review. :) If things were too complicated, please explain in a review and I'll brush up on my style! **


End file.
